Caught in captivity - the suffering of refugee women in Bangladesh

At first glance everything looks much better. The narrow alleys are no longer full of mud, toilets are standing where once faeces contaminated the ground and hundreds of children are playing and laughing around me. The scene of the refugee camps in Bangladesh give an illusion that the worst is over. But underneath the smiles are countless stories of horror and pain.

Four months ago I traveled to Cox's Bazar to witness how the refugee crisis had displaced more than 680,000 people since last August. At that time, I met hundreds of refugees who recounted how their homes were burnt down and how they were forced to hide for days in the jungle to escape mass murders and violence. I cannot help but notice how this trauma is still present today.

Six months later, the temporary situation has improved to some extent. Aid organizations such as CARE have been on the ground providing clean drinking water, shelter and medical aid since the beginning of the crisis. But with the increase in assistance and temporary coverage of some of the greatest needs, the underlying problems have become much more visible. In the narrow walkways within the densely populated refugee camp I started to notice how I barely see any women. It is not until I reach Hasina’s* tent to understand why: she is one of the many women who is confined in a small and dark tent 23 hours a day. The 17-year-old is 9-months pregnant and fled to Bangladesh together with her husband and in-laws as her village was burnt down. Her own parents are still in Myanmar. Since arriving in Bangladesh five months ago, she has not been to any of the health clinics that CARE and other organizations support and provide for young women like Hasina. "My husband does not want me to go out where other men could see me. Women are supposed to stay inside," Hasina tells me. "I'm allowed to go out for about an hour in the evenings and can walk up to the end of our alley to fetch water," she adds. The tradition that Hasina describes is called "parda" (English "curtain"). The practice prevents women to be seen by any men other than their husbands, fathers, sons.

The rigid isolation of women in the camps has many consequences. Many of them barely eat and drink during the day and wait until late in the evenings to relieve themselves. This is particularly harmful to the health of pregnant women like Hasina. In order to stay close to home, some of them do not use the toilets that CARE and other aid agencies have set up in the refugee camps. Instead, they defecate in or near their tents, which can increase the risk of disease outbreaks such as cholera. Moreover, many women do not know where aid distributions take place or do not know who to consult to find assistance. At the same time, many of them fail to actively participate and communicate their needs.

The women I did meet outside in the camps were, unlike my last visit, completely covered up. The strict gender segregation for religious and cultural reasons is generally common in the refugee camps. But fear of gender-based violence and sexual abuse, exacerbated the risks and increased the demand for burkas and hijabs[1]. While concealment can enhance a woman’s movement within the camps, it also decreases the visibility of women and girls in the overcrowded space and also restricts their freedom. This is what worries me the most.

In order to better reach them, we needed to adapt the way we provide our aid services. For example, many of our awareness raising sessions on sanitation and health practices or violence prevention are now offered in closed rooms. CARE has also set up women-friendly spaces in the camps to enable female refugees to interact with each other and share their trauma and concerns in a safe environment.

Striking the right balance between assuring women’s safety and security as well as protecting their freedom and liberties is a difficult task. It is a narrow space in which to navigate as an aid organization. But one thing is clear: as long as the international community does not find a long-term solution to end the crisis and fix the causes leading to their displacement, we will continue to witness the silent suffering of hundreds and thousands of women and girls.

* Name changed


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